Clock Don't Stop
by McKinnon-and-Black-forever
Summary: Angelina and George have never had it easy and neither one of them would change that. This is their story. Related drabbles about Mr. George Weasley and Ms. Angelina Johnson.
1. Chapter 1

"Sir, it's fine," Angelina tries to reassure the man who took their picture.

"No, she's cut out, I swear! Let me find a better picture!" he replies loudly going through the pictures that he has.

"Why does this always happen to me?" Alicia mutters as she looks down at the picture that she's cut out of.

"Because you're too beautiful," Angelina tells her. "That man was too busy staring at you when he took that picture."

Alicia laughs. "This is not the way I wanted to remember my first ball."

"Yes, but at least you'll remember it," she says.

"Poor 'Licia," Fred teases as he approaches them. "Cut out of the picture again."

"Shut up, Fred," Angelina reprimands him. George bends down to whisper something in Alicia's ear, which makes her smile. Angelina is glad that Alicia is going to have a fun time tonight, because she deserves it. Now if only, she could get Fred to be that kind.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: PixiePatronus13675, I agree with you! There needs to be more George and Angelina in the world.**

Angelina isn't sure how much more of Fred she can take. She loves him—really—but her feet hurt from where he has stepped on them so much. If she had known what a horrid dancer he was, she never would have said yes when he asked her to the Yule Ball.

"So, Ange," Fred says causally and she hopes that he isn't going to ask her out on another date. "What do you think of-"

"Mind if I cut in?" the most glorious voice interrupts.

"If you insist," Fred replies. "I've got to go take care of something anyway."

"Thank Merlin," Angelina mutters when Fred is out of earshot. "My feet are killing me. Fred's great and all, but he's a terrible dancer."

George laughs, gently moving her to the music. "Grace was never one of his better qualities. Besides, he never did pay attention to McGonagall in class."

"And you did?" Angelina counters.

He shrugs. "More so than Fred."

"Well, it paid off," she tells him. "You're dancing is much better than his."

"That's because I'm a natural," George replies cheekily.

Angelina rolls her eyes, letting herself get lost in the music and the feeling of George's arms around her. Honestly, she never thought it would feel this good to be in his arms. He's warm and his muscles are delightfully toned. Tucking her head under his neck, she lets herself relax for the first time that night as George rests his chin on top of her head.

It's not that Fred isn't nice—he is—it's just that he's always been the more excitable one. He wants to get out and be in the think of the crowd, soaking up all of the attention. George likes the attention as well, but he is more laid-back than his brother. He seems to let the road take him where it wishes without ever stopping to make the roses explode.

That's why when the dance ends, Angelina wishes that she didn't have to let George go.

"Have fun with Fred," he smirks. "I'd watch your toes, if I were you."

"Thanks," she replies. "I'd watch your back if I were you. Alicia has killer nails and she doesn't mind using them in bed."

With that, Angelina turns and walks away from him, satisfied by the look of shock on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

George rolls his eyes as Fred yet again sighs. Honestly, he's just a little bit annoyed.

"Is this about Angelina?" he asks.

"Yeah," Fred replies.

"You know where you went wrong," George reminds him.

He and Angelina were never really together—at least no officially. So when Fred decided he wanted to snog Sarah McHaven, Angelina had assumed that was it. Fred being who he was found out afterward that he actually wanted to stay with her. Of course, Angelina wasn't looking for anything serious so Fred hadn't bothered saying anything to her. That left George with a sulking Fred, which added up to no fun for him.

"Yeah, I know," Fred mutters.

"Why don't I go get us something to eat?" George suggests.

Fred nods and doesn't say anything so George takes this as his cue to leave. He barely steps out of the portrait hole before he runs into the cause of his brother's problems. Angelina Johnson in the flesh.

"Hey ya, Georgie," she greets him. "Where are you headed and where's your other half?"

George smiles. "To grab something to eat. He's in the common room, being lazy."

Angelina snorts. "Of course. Hey, George, can I ask you something?"

"Anything," he answers.

"Do you think that Cedric will notice me?" she inquires, biting her lip. "I know he's will Cho and all, but if that doesn't work out. . ."

She looks so worried and George wants to march Cedric Diggory down here and make him ask Ange out.

"He'd be a fool not to," he responds before he can even think about it.

He is rewarded with a smile before Angelina walks into the common room. He swears that his heart breaks for Fred.


	4. Chapter 4

George sighs as he leans back into his chair. He doesn't want to do anything, but drink. Fred is gone—really gone—and somehow the world is still turning. It seems impossible, but somehow it isn't. Somehow, he's sitting here—alive—drinking himself to sleep without Fred. It isn't right, nor is it fair.

"George," a sympathetic voice meets his ears, but he can't quite place it. Then Angelina appears into his line of vision. "What are you doing?"

"Angelina!" he says, glad to have someone take his mind off of Fred. "What are you doing here? Come to drink with me?"

"No," she answers gently. "I've come to take you home."

"I always wanted to go home with you," George slurs. "You're rather fit, did you know that?"

She gives him a sad smile. "Come on, George."

She slips her arm around his waist and throws his arm around her shoulders. They wobble a bit as they walk and no one speaks while they walk to his shop. Once they reach the flat, Angelina helps him over to the couch. After making sure he's comfortable, she throws a blanket over him.

"Angie?" he whispers.

"Yeah?" she answers, bending down so she can look him in the eye.

"I'm scared to let go," he mutters.

"Well, I won't let go of you until you let go of him," she responds. "Does that sound fair?"

George nods and is claimed by sleep a second letter. When he wakes up the next morning, Angelina is still there, asleep in the chair across from him.


	5. Chapter 5

George sighs as he cooks dinner. It's the third night in a row that Angelina has been over. He appreciates what she's doing for him, but honestly, it's starting to annoy him just a bit. He's grateful though. He'd be in the gutter otherwise.

"George!" Angelina suddenly cries from the living room. He would be worried if it weren't for the joyous sound in her voice. "I have a surprise for you!"

"What is it?" he inquires as she enters the room.

"Wait for it," she answers, digging through her purse. Then she pulls out a letter and waves it in his face. "I'm officially one of the Harpies!"

George smiles brightly at her before sweeping her into a tight hug. "That's wonderful, Angie. I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks," she says, pulling back to look at his face. "I'm just a reserve, but I might not be here everyday."

"That's ok," he tells her. "I can manage on my own."


	6. Chapter 6

"Remind me why we're lying on this rug?" George says to Angelina as they lie side by side.

Angelina shrugs. "Why not?"

"Because it's dirty."

"Are you afraid of a little bit of dirt?"

George snorts. "Wouldn't be much of a Gryffindor if I was."

Angelina nods as she holds up her glass. George begins to pour her some more whiskey.

"That would be enough," she tells him when it's about a quarter full. However, she doesn't take a sip of it. She lets it sit next to her, while she contemplates how they got here.

"He would think we're pathetic, wouldn't he?" she finally mumbles.

"Pathetic doesn't even cover it," George replies grimly.

Angelina takes a sip of her drink. "That's probably true. I mean how many people would lie on the floor drinking whiskey when there's a memorial serve going on to honor those who died trying to make the world a better place? Honestly, though, I can't stand to be around all those people, especially not today. If someone else wants to go, fine, but don't expect me to be there."

"What's your mum going to say when you don't show?" he inquires.

She shrugs. "I don't know. Probably gripe about how I was supposed to be there and that I should show more respect toward those who died for us. Well, fuck her. I don't live under her roof anymore and she can't boss me around like a child. I am a grown ass woman and I will do as I damn well please."

"I'll drink to that," George agrees, as he refills both of their glasses. "What do you say we get pissed off our rockers and let our parents find us in the morning? Then we can wallow in our shame together."

"Sounds like a plan to me," she nods before downing her drink.


	7. Chapter 7

George is so busy trying to run the shop that he doesn't notice his sister standing behind him. They're short staffed today and he's been running around, trying to make sure things aren't getting out of control. Of course, the shop helps him forget that Fred is gone. If he closes his eyes, he can almost hear his twin's voice. So when he turns around and sees his sister, he nearly jumps out of his skin.

"What are you doing here?" he asks her.

"I came to visit," she answers, easily.

"Well, can you come back another time?" he says as politely as possible.

"I noticed Angelina was helping you out," she comments, ignoring his reply.

"Yeah, I needed the help," he tells her. "So what?"

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret," Ginny smiles as she leans toward him. "A crush lasts an average of four months. Once it's exceeded that, you're already in love."

"Shut up, Ginny," George mumbles as he turns red, while his sister laughs.

"Well, you might as well be," she says. "You look at her like the sun rises and sets every time she enters or leaves the room."

"Oh, go snog Harry, why don't you?" George retorts.

Ginny sighs. "I would, but he's at work and I can't interrupt him there. So I decided to come and annoy you like a good little sister. Also, I happen to like Angelina so don't screw this up with her, alright?"

"There's nothing to screw up," he tells her patiently.

"Pftt, you're in denial."

"What's he denying?" Angelina asks as reaches them.

"Nothing," George answers quickly. "My sister is crazy."

Ginny looks offended while Angelina laughs.

"I've no idea how you've lived with him all your life," she tells Ginny. "He must have been a pain."

"Oh, he is, trust me," Ginny confirms.

"Women," George mumbles before stomping off.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Warning for mentions of depression and Anorexia**.

"George," her voice meets his ears and suddenly he is wide awake. She never calls him this late and if she is, something is terribly, terribly wrong. He pushes himself out of bed and lands with the thud next to the fireplace where the Floo is a light sickly green with Angelina's head popping out of it.

"Angie?" he mumbles. "What is it?"

"George I. . ." she trails off and he can see her collecting her thoughts. "I need your help. I'm at this bar and the room is spinning. I can't get remember where I put my wand. And this guy in the corner is looking at me like I'm on tonight's menu."

She is close to tears, George can tell. If this guy made Angelina cry, then there was a problem.

"Hold on," he tells her. "I'm coming for you, no matter what it takes, ok?"

Angelina nods and gives him the address of the bar, absentmindedly. Hurriedly, George pulls on his trousers and a shirt. His wand is in his hand and he's Apparating before he realizes what he's doing. Suddenly, he finds himself in front of a bar that looks like it has seen better days. What in the name of Merlin is Angelina doing here? Pushing the door open, he finds that the dark skinned girl is nowhere in sight.

"Was there a black girl here?" George asks the bartender, who just raises his eyebrows as if saying 'mate, I've seen a million black girls; you're going to have to be more specific'. "She's tall, big brown eyes, and she's got braids. Box braids. Her hair is about shoulder blade length."

After a moment, the man nods. "Yes, I think I know the girl you're talking about. She went out back."

He nods to a back door and George's stomach is filled with knots. Why would she go out the back door? What if she's in trouble? Immediately, his brain starts to function again and he's striding toward the door, then pushing it open.

He finds Angelina huddled against the wall, her arms wrapped around herself like she can keep the world out if she stays like this. Swiftly, George bends down next to her, hesitates for a moment, then places a hand gently on her shoulder. She doesn't move; she doesn't even acknowledge him. He's not good with words and he doesn't know what to say, but he knows saying nothing will make things ten times worse.

"Angelina?" he says, softly. "What's wrong? Did someone hurt you? Did that _guy_ hurt you?"

"I'm fine," she answers, but her voice is flat, almost monotone.

"No, you're not," he replies immediately, because she is far from fine. As much as Angelina pretends that she is ok, everyone knows she's not. She lost people in the war, too. George knows how she feels, but he never thought she would go to this extreme. He was the one who was always holed up in bars.

"Yes, I am," she argues and a little bit of relief floods him. At least, she can still argue with him.

"No, Ange," he repeats. "No one is. No one is ever going to fine after a war like we've had. That's just the way it is."

Finally, she looks at him and it nearly kills George. Her eyes are rimmed red and she looks so sad, like she'll never be happy again. Her lips are trembling because she's trying not to cry, which makes George want to hold her tightly, even though she will never allow him to do that.

"I'm tired," she mutters. "I'm so tired of being strong for everyone. Katie's mum died in the war and she can barely function so I'm the one who has to go over everyday and make sure that she gets out of bed. Then there's Alicia, who can't even look around her house without crying, because Lee is too screwed up to stay with her. She makes herself throw up, did you know that? After every meal, she sticks her finger down her throat until she pukes it all up, and that's if she even eats. I have to make sure that she doesn't starve herself to death. Then there's you. . .oh. . ."

She chokes on a sob then and George sees then just how rundown Angelina is. She works herself to the bone for everyone else, but when it comes to herself, well, she isn't even thinking about her health or well-being.

"Oh, Angie," George sighs, pulling her into his arms and rocking her gently. "You are so, so strong, Angie. If you weren't here to hold us all up, then we'd have drowned by now. And it's alright to care about yourself. It's alright to have time for yourself. We can survive one day, Angelina. You do not need to do everything or feel like you have to do everything. Do you understand me?"

Slowly, Angelina starts to nod. "I'm sorry. I'm sitting in this stupid alley, feeling sorry for myself-"

"No," George interrupts her. "You're allowed to mourn, too. You lost people, too, Ange."

She doesn't say anything for a minute, just watches him very closely. Then she drops her gaze and everything is quiet.

"I really wanna kiss you right now," she says softly after a few minutes have elapsed.

George's eyes widen and he knows he must have heard her wrong. Angelina would never kiss him, not even when he was normal and Fred was still alive, especially not now when he's all screwed up. But then she looks at him and yes, she does want to kiss him. He can see it her eyes.

Then her lips are pushing hard against his, like she thinks he will push her away. That is the farthest thing from his mind, though. His arms tighten around her, making sure that she won't go anywhere. She tastes like whiskey. A moan echos through the alley, but George isn't sure who it belongs to; her or him. His hands thread in her hair and tug lightly.

Finally, they come up for air.

"Please, don't ever stop doing that," Angelina begs him.

"I won't," he replies.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** **PixiePatronus13675** **I know what you mean. People always just glance over what happened in the war, but I'm glad you liked it! I wasn't sure if it was too much or not.**

Angelina taps her fingers against the table as she waits for George to get back with their drinks. The thought of George at the moment makes her stomach curl just a bit. It's new and strange; the feeling she has for George. George has been one of her best friends since forever, but after that kiss in the alley, nothing has been the same between them.

It's not really good and it's not really bad. It is a nervous humming energy that bounces off the walls whenever they are both in the same room. It is the electric current that runs through their veins whenever they touch. It is the heated looks that they share when they are absolutely positive no one is watching them.

"Here you are, Angie-Lina," he greets her as he sits her drink down in front of her.

"I see what you did there," she mutters as she sips her drink.

"What's that?" he replies innocently.

"That name," she answers. "You used to call me that when I couldn't tell the difference between you and Fred. It was sweet."

George snorts. "What can I say? I'm a pushover for a girl with braids." He glances at her. "Why aren't you wearing them tonight?"

"I took them out a couple days ago," she tells him. "It takes almost two hours to do my whole head and I didn't feel like messing with them."

"Well, your hair still looks pretty," he compliments her. "Don't know if I like it better this way or not."

Shock pours into Angelina's body as her mind registers the meaning of his words. She has never known George to compliment her unless it was entirely sarcastic. Of course, she never thought George would kiss her either. Yet, here they were, sitting in a bar with a ton of sexual tension between them.

Then again, they aren't actually in a bar. Not the friendly kind that Angelina is used to. This one is much more formal. It has circular booths with dim lightly all the way around. There isn't a dance floor and if Angelina hadn't known better, she would say that people came here just for the whiskey and the snogging. The couple across from them could be having sex and they wouldn't even know it because of the lighting.

"George?" Angelina asks.

"Hmm?"

"Why did you bring me here?"

"What do you mean?" he inquires.

"Exactly what I said," she answers. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because I thought you could use a night out?" he says, but it sounds more like a question.

"No," Angelina rebukes him. "What's the real reason you brought me here?"

George shifts in his seat as Angelina watches him closely. She doesn't want to take her eyes off of him, in case she misses some kind of signal that he's lying or not tell the truth. However, when his eyes meet hers, she gets nothing, but the honest truth. Red hot desire courses through the those hazel eyes and they clearly spell out how much he wants her.

"Thought so," she mumbles, before throwing her leg over his waist. He seems shocked, but she doesn't allow too much room for that. Instead, she takes his face into her hands and kisses him roughly, nipping at his bottom lip. A shocked breath of air flies into her mouth, but she doesn't mind. Now she has access to his mouth she can explore it thoroughly like she has wanted to for the past few months.

George's hands find her hips and yank them forward so she can feel him pressing against her center. She really wishes she hadn't worn pants today. Her hips start to rock against him of their own accord, like she know has no control over her body and it he who decides what to do with it. With the way things are going, Angelina wouldn't mind that at all.

"Angelina," he sighs into her mouth. The sound of her name thrills her. It makes this much more real, especially since he used her full name. George hardly ever uses her full name. It is always 'Ange' or if she is upset or they are overly happy 'Angie'. 'Angelina' is saved for serious occasions or when he is trying to convince her of something. Apparently, having her grind against him is a very serious matter.

Finally, her lips break away from his to gasp as he pulls her hips sharply against his hardened member. She wants to reach into his pants and feel just how hard he is for her. The only thing that stops her is that they are in public. So she settles for rocking into him with such force that she's afraid she might grind him into the wall. That doesn't stop her though.

"More," she moans, her fingers tightening on his red locks. He obligates her. His hips snap up to hers causing such glorious friction that she thinks she might cry. This is perfect. This friction, the way her fingers curl into his hair, George himself, all of it. So when she presses down hard on him, she isn't surprised when she starts to come undone. It only takes a few more hard thrusts downward for her to finish.

"Angelina," George mutters, still clinging to her and pressing his hips up into her clothed center. Angelina does her best to meet his thrusts, but she knows that they are weak. However, they must give George what he needs, because he's burying his face in her neck and groaning, not two minutes later.

Afterward, both of them sit there, a little shocked from what they've just done. Suddenly, Angelina laughs.

"What?" George asks, pulling away to look at her.

"We're in public," she gasps. "My mother would have a cow if she knew what I just did."

Slowly, George starts to laugh, too.


	10. Chapter 10

"George," Angelina mutters, as he kisses down her throat.

He responds by humming against her neck.

At the moment, they're both seated on his couch. Angelina has her leg swung over his hip and George's hands are under her shirt. It's tentative and she isn't sure if they're headed to the bedroom or not, but she really wants to go to his bed. Or here; she doesn't mind the couch.

"Don't rush me," he mutters.

"It doesn't matter how slow you go," she teases him. "Just don't stop."

He smiles against her neck then her shirt is slowly being pulled over her head. A moan escapes her mouth when his touch dashes across the tops of her breasts. Her hands work on the buttons of his shirt far more gently than she would have expected them to; it's like he is in control of her body. Once she's got it removed, a smile flits across her face at the sight of all the freckles that litter his chest and shoulders. She decides that she loves freckles.

"See something you like?" he asks.

"Oh, yes," she answers.

Her hands run over his chest, feeling the muscles that lives under his light skin.

"Let's take this too the bedroom," Angelina decides.

"Let's," he agrees, before he lifts her into his arms and carries her into his room.


	11. Chapter 11

"Come on, then!" Angelina shouts as she climbs up the hill.

"Ange, what's the point of this?" George heaves. "Couldn't we have had lunch at my house?"

"Nope," she replies. "What's the fun in that?"

"I wouldn't be half dead?" he suggests.

Angelina laughs. "Man up, George. We used to be able to run five miles and not get winded."

"That was when we were seventeen!" he wheezes.

"Well, chin up then!" she replies. "We're getting to the top of this hill!"

When they finally reach the top, Angelina stands with her hands on her hips and looks out over the acres of land that surround them while George puts his hands on his knees and tries to catch his breath. Smiling, she turns to face him.

"Can't stand a little hike?" she teases.

"Why are we up here?" he replies.

"My dad used to take me up here," Angelina tells him. "When I was little, he would bring me up here and tell me the world was at my feet and that I could be whatever I wanted to be. I told him I wanted to be queen of the world."

George smiles gently at her. "Then why'd you bring me up here?"

"Put two and two together, dummy!" she says. "I like you!"

George smirks before tackling her to the ground and covering her with kisses.


	12. Chapter 12

Angelina has been soaking in the tub for a few minutes, but the water doesn't soothe her—not the way it should. She thinks about earlier-about what she saw. Really, she has no right to be jealous. She and George aren't together. They're just fuck buddies, if that. They've only had sex twice and kissed a handful of times. They aren't committed to each other and he can kiss whoever he wants.

But thing is: she is jealous. She is so jealous that she had to turn herself around and march straight back to her flat to keep herself from knocking that girl's teeth out. She is pretty sure that she might have slapped George, too. She also knows that he saw her. He was surprised to her, but he saw her nonetheless. And he didn't come after her.

Closing her eyes, she decides to relax and put the thought of George and that girl out of her mind. She doesn't need to stress over it. It isn't her business anyway. George is a grown man and he can do what he wants to do.

Angelina is drawn out of her peacefulness when the curtains on her bathtub are yanked open. Her eyes fly open, but it doesn't matter because the next thing she knows, she's being kissed and is kissing back. She would know those lips anywhere.

Her pruned fingers find the buttons of his shirt and begin to yank them open. George is already climbing into the tub, not bothering with his clothes, which makes her want to laugh, but his lips are still moving over hers. Finally, she throws his soaking wet shirt on the floor and is able to feel her skin against his. The feeling makes her moan.

George's lips travel down her neck, sucking and biting gently as his hands kneed her breasts. Meanwhile, her hands disappear inside his trousers and pants to find his member. He hisses through his teeth as she begins to stroke him.

Angelina has always enjoyed the affect she had on him. The slightest touch of her hand to the that one spot and he is trembling in her arms, just like he is right now. It amazed her at first, but now it just makes her smug. He's the one who is supposed to make her knees weak, not the other way around.

"Enough of that," he mutters gruffly, as he yanks her hand out of his pants. Now, she does laugh.

Soon, his pants have landed on the floor with a wet plop. He's letting his hand trail over her clit, but the water has washed any trace of her natural lubricant. Cursing, she pushes him away.

"Hang on a second," she tells him as she turns to shuffle through her drawer. George doesn't mind though. He kisses her back while his hands run over her breasts again. Finally, she locates the bottle of lubricant she's looking for. She always has a few on hand, just in case. Good thing, too. Gently she sinks back into the water with the bottle, only to have George snatch it from her.

"Hey!" she protests.

"Mine now," he mutters, with a smirk. He squirts a generous amount on his hand before finding her center. Her hands find his shoulders so she can steady herself, even though she's lying down. Just as quick as his hands are on her, they're gone and Angelina wants to whine in annoyance. Then he is inside her, filling her world all over again.

"Remember that other girl?" she asks playfully in his ear.

He lets out a small laugh. "Last thing on my mind, actually."

"Good," she replies as she roles her hips into his.

Being with George is wonderful, just like the first time. She isn't sure how they started exactly; she only knew that they had started this and she would never be more happy than when she was with him—than when he filled her completely. It isn't that he was the first—he was far from it—it is that he knows her so well—even on that first night, he didn't have to be told what she liked, he already knew. Just like she knows what he likes.

Her hands find his lower back and pull him closer, always closer. He mutters her name into her hair, as he pushes into her, pressing hard against her cervix. That almost makes her cry out, but she refrains. Worse things have happened during sex. When his thumb finds her clit, she moans and bucks against him, which makes him smirk.

"Prat," she mutters in his ear.

"Not something a man wants to hear during sex, Ange," he quips.

She leans forward and whispers in his ear, "Fuck me."

A groan escapes his lips and that's all it takes to get him to actually fuck her. She has never been a slow kind of person and she likes her sex rough, not gentle. Well, most of the time. His body is curling into hers and she lets her fingers tangle in his hair, tugging a little too hard, but George doesn't seem to mind.

Then she's reaching her high. It's like falling off of a cliff. Once it ends, there is no going back and she would never want to. Every time is special and unique and this time is, too. When she falls, a moan escapes her lips and she wraps one of her legs around his waist to push him deeper, but she's too exhausted to try. He follows soon after.

"Fuck, you're good," he mutters after he catches his breathe.

"Not what a woman wants to hear, George," she tells him as she pushes him off of her. She's aware that they have probably flooded the bathroom floor, but she can't bring herself to care. Lazily, George wraps an arm around her. She allows it and they lay there for a while, not saying anything, but both of them at peace.


	13. Chapter 13

George Weasley is drunk. Pissed off his arse, can't walk in a straight line, blurred vision drunk.

"I just saw her and I stopped, you know?" George slurs to the bartender, who looks unamused, though the drunken man doesn't notice. "Everything stopped. I mean _everything_. She can do that, you know. Stop the whole world with the blink of her eye. She's gorgeous, but that's not all she is. She's smart and funny and she's got a temper, too. You don't want to be on the wrong side of her wand, mate. Trust me."

"If I didn't know better, boy," the bartender says. "I'd say you were in love."

George sighs. "I might as well be. That's what my sister says anyway. That the way I act around her is enough proof that I love her. I just don't know if I can love her right."

Suddenly, he hears someone behind him take a deep gulp of air. Spinning around on the bar stool, he spots Angelina standing behind him, with a blank expression on her face.

"Angelina!" he cries, standing up and throwing an arm around her shoulders. She is tense under him. "We were just talking about you. Ol' Frank and me."

"S'its Jason," the bartender replies grumpily. "You mind gettin' rid o' him?"

"Well," George sniffs. "I'll just take my company else where."

With that George turns and walks away, only to trip on a chair and fall face down on the floor.

"Oh, George," Angelina sighs as she helps him up. Once he's righted, he tries to thank Angelina, but finds himself being sucked through what feels like a vacuum. When they land in Angelina's apartment, George doubles over, his head between his knees.

"Merlin, Ange, what was that for?" he groans.

She doesn't answer. Instead, she heads into the kitchen. George is indignant. She is the one who brought him here and made him almost throw up and now she's walking out? Then she returns with a glass of water for him and he takes back any bad thoughts that he had about her. Quickly, he swallows the water, letting the liquid splash his burning throat.

"Thanks, love," he mumbles.

"Let's get you to bed," she says in monotone.

"Your bed?" he suggests.

She doesn't reply to this. Leading him down the hallway and into what is indeed her bedroom, Angelina finally lets George rest on her bed. He lies back on the soft covers that smell so much like _her_ and tries not to let his lower regions give away his attraction.

"Angie?" he calls as she starts to leave the room. "Stay with me, will you?"

She sighs. "Of course."

Then she lies down next to him and lets him wrap an arm around her waist. Maybe, just maybe, he thinks, tomorrow will be the day he tells her just how much he cares about her, just how much she means to him. But as he drifts off to sleep, he knows better. He may be a Gryffindor, but he will never be that brave.


	14. Chapter 14

Angelina rolls off of George and onto her back. She hadn't expected things to progress so quickly, but here they were, both naked and trying to catch their breathes after their previous activities. Not that this was a bad thing. On the contrary, it was a rather pleasurable experience.

After a minute, Angelina rolls onto her side, the one facing away from George, to see what time it is. Not that it really matters, but it gives her something to do. Suddenly, an arm wraps itself around her waist and she fights the urge to roll her eyes. It isn't like she was going to leave the bed anytime soon. So she snuggles back into George's arms, content to be held for now.

"I, for one, think we have amazing sex," Angelina states.

George laughs. "It's good to know I didn't disappoint."

"Definitely not," she nods. "I don't want give those compliments to just anyone, you know."

"Of course, you don't," he scoffs. "You're you and that means that you have to play hard to get all the time."

"I don't play hard to get," she snaps, indignantly. "Just because I don't fall at the feet of every handsome face the looks my way, doesn't mean I enjoying turning men down."

George shrugs. "What about women?"

Angelina turns her head slightly. "What about women?"

"If I recall correctly, you hinted that you and Alicia had a thing once," he mutters in her ear. "Or was that just a phase?"

"It was a phase for Alicia," she explains. "Not for me, though."

He stiffens. "Then why are you here?"

"There is a such thing as bisexuality, you prick," she replies, elbowing him in the stomach.

"Of course, there is," he says and she knows he's blushing, even if she can't see his face. "I just assumed-"

"Don't assume anything," Angelina interrupts him. "It gets you in a position like the one you're in now."

"You mean the one where we're both naked in your bed?" he asks cheekily.

"Dick," she mumbles. "So you've only been with girls?"

"Yep," he answers. "Never had an interest in guys."

She nods and lets her eyes close. She's already half asleep so she doesn't hear George whisper, "You're my one weakness, Angelina."


	15. Chapter 15

Angelina sighs what feels like the fiftieth time as she lies in George's arms. Honestly, he's just a little bit sick of it. Angelina has to leave for the Quidditch season tomorrow and she probably won't be back for a while. Quidditch requires traveling around the world almost consistently, which means that Angelina won't be back in England for at least a month and that's if she's lucky.

"You'll be back, you know," George mutters as he runs his fingers up and down her bare back.

"I know," she replies. "I just don't want to leave you."

"Ange," George says tersely. "I'm capable of taking care of myself."

"I know," she mumbles as she looks away from him. "It's not that. I just don't want to leave."

"Alicia and Katie will be fine, too," he assures her. "Alicia's doing a lot better and Katie is up and at it again. Besides, she's got Wood to keep her company now. I'll stop in and make sure that they're ok, too. You don't have to worry about them, love."

"That's not it, you idiot," she snaps, moving to sit up. "I don't want to leave you and not because you're hurting and in pain. I just don't want to leave you. I'll miss you."

Slowly, George sits up as well. He takes her face in his hands and kisses her thoroughly. He doesn't let her go until he's sure that he has convinced her of the fact that he isn't going anywhere. Not now and certainly not when she leaves. She needs to know that.

"I'm going to miss that, too," she breathes when he pulls away. "George, I. . . .I want this to make us stronger and I don't want us to grow apart."

"I know, love," he says, brushing some hair away from her face. "But nothing could rip me away from you."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: This takes place about a year or so after the last one.**

Angelina slams the door as she and George come in from a bar. A bar that she had to go and fetch him from. When she arrived, she found some girl with her hands down his pants. That slut may have given her a bruise on her cheek, but Angelina is sure that she knocked at least two of her teeth out and gave her a black eye. George just hung his head and followed her home.

"Angelina," he starts.

"Don't," she answers, throwing her wand onto the counter. She isn't going to listen to his lies. "I don't want to hear your excuses. I don't want to hear how she just happened to be there. I don't want to hear about how you needed someone to help you ease your pain. I am right here and I know know more about what you're going through than some bar shank."

He doesn't deny anything that she says. In fact, all he does is look at the ground and rub the toe of his boot into her carpet. She turns to the sink to get a glass of water for him to drink, only to have arms circle around her waist.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles softly. "I really am."

Angelina blows out a breath. "Promise that you'll never make me do that again."

He knows she's talking about the bar fight. She had to nearly break the girl's arm off to get her off of George. She would do it again in a heartbeat, but she doesn't want to have to.

"I promise," he says softly. "Never again."


	17. Chapter 17

Angelina downs another shot of gin. She's angry and annoyed and most certainly not thinking about George Weasley, who is a prick and doesn't think about anyone but himself. Did she mention he was a prick? She downs another shot.

"Angelina," that dreaded voice sighs. "You know better than to drink without me."

"Piss off, George," Angelina snaps. "If I had wanted you here, I would have informed you before hand."

"May I?" he asks, reaching for the bottle, only to have Angelina pull it close to her chest. "Oh, now you're making me jealous of that bottle."

She sticks her tongue out at him. "You should be."

Leaning back in his chair, he studies her. "So are you going to tell me why you're mad?"

Anger flares inside of her. How could he not know why she is mad? It is rather obvious in her opinion.

"Well, for starters, you're using me for sex," she bluntly replies, as he gaps at her. "It's not like you care who you're fucking as long as it's a warm body. And it's not like you ever asked me how I was feeling about all this. No, because I'm Angelina and I couldn't possibly be hurting like everyone else. And you know what the sad part is? If I could do it all again, I would. Because guess what, George? I care about you and if that made you feel better then I would gladly do it.

"But now? After all of this has made me miserable? I would rather be six feet under than within six feet of you. You've caused me so much pain and you don't even realize it. And you know what? I'm done. I'm done being your warm body. I'm done being there for you if you can't be there for me. I'm done pretending that someone I've known for years, actually gives a damn about me. I'm done with it all."

"You don't mean that," George whispers.

"But I do," she replies before standing and marching out of the bar.


	18. Chapter 18

Angelina's day has been long and what she wants most is a nice warm meal. She enters her flat and searches the fridge only to find barely enough ingredients to make a sandwich with. Sighing, she pulls out the bread and throws together her meal for the evening. After that, she climbs into her bed and tries to get some sleep.

However, sleep evades her. She tosses and turns and can't seem to get in the right position. Finally, she understands why she's so agitated. Her body is humming with a nervous energy that only means one thing. Rolling her eyes, she climbs out of bed and throws her clothes off.

Once she's in bed, she looks over her body for a minute, trying to conger an image to get herself off with. She finds one rather easily, but it's not one she would have chosen as a first pick. She's supposed to be mad at George, not wanking to the image of him. Sadly, she wants to get to sleep and she doesn't have energy to think up anything else.

Instead, she imagines George's hands running down her body; his lips trailing over her neck, trying to make her forgive him.

"Stop it," she'd protest if he were here. "You know that's my weak spot."

"You could make me stop," he'd reply.

Her hand finds it's way down her body, until it's buried her heat and her hips are rocking against it. Her thumb finds her clit and she rubs it roughly, pushing herself closer and closer to the edge. A moan escapes her mouth as her other hand pinches her nipple none too gentle. She almost fools herself into believing that it is George's hands on her body as she cries out his name; that he is right here with her, kissing her neck and preparing to show her just how much he misses her and how sorry he is.

Sadly, she is alone when she comes down from her high and if she's quite honest, it's rather pathetic. After wiping her hand on a cloth by her bed, she pulls the covers around her naked body and falls into a deep sleep. She wakes up the next morning longing for someone who isn't there.


	19. Chapter 19

Angelina reaches for her wand immediately when she hears the pounding on her door. She doesn't expect anyone to be here this late and her first thought is that Death Eaters have come to take her. Then she remembers that the war is over and that she's in her flat and everything is _fine_. Expect for the pounding noise on her door. Huffing, she climbs out of her bed wand in hand—just in case—and makes her way to the front door. The rain assaults her roof, making her wish that she was back in her warm bed and not creeping across her cold floor. She's going to murder whoever is standing at her front door right now.

She changes her mind when the door swings open to reveal a soaked George Weasley, though.

At first, she has no words for him, but then her anger returns full force.

"What do you think you're doing?!" she shouts. "It's the middle of the night and some people have to sleep unlike you. We can't all drink ourselves in oblivionation."

She can see that her words hurt him, but at the moment, she doesn't care.

"I'm sorry," he mutters.

"Sorry?!" Angelina snaps. "You're sorry? If you were really sorry, you would have waited to come over in the morning instead of the middle of the night when I was asleep. If you were really sorry, you would have stopped the drinking—you would have stopped using me."

He winces at her words. "Ange, please, I wanna talk."

"You had your chance to talk," she cries before trying to slam the door in his face. However, even though he's probably drunk, he's not out of shape and he forces the door open.

"Please, don't be like this," he pleads.

"Fine," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Give me three good reasons why I should take you back and then I'll _think_ about letting you inside."

"Fine," he replies. "One: not all of our time together was bad. There was the day we went to Fleur and Bill's to house sit and the time we went Oliver's Quidditch match. Those were good days, Ange."

She remembers both of those days very clearly. Bill and Fleur had decided to pack up and visit her family in France and they had asked George to house sit for them. She and George were just starting out then and everything was new and exciting. So when he had asked her to come with him, she had said yes. They'd spent the weekend lazing around and not doing much of anything, which had suited her just fine.

The other day was just a fun. Katie had invited them to come to Oliver's match when she found out that they were free for the day. (She had also just started dating Oliver and was a bit nervous.) So Angelina had agreed to come and they ended up cheering their former classmate on and Angelina made sure Katie wasn't too worked up over it all. Afterward had been just as fun when the four of them had decided to go out and celebrate the Puddlemere win.

"Two," he continues. "I miss you."

The statement causes Angelina to draw in sharp breath. That is the last thing she expected him to say to her. George is an emotional person, but he doesn't like to express his emotions in words. He expresses them in actions instead. When he is happy, the ideas for his shop increase tenfold. When he is sad, he drinks himself to sleep. When he is angry, he makes things explode.

Angelina's mind is so preoccupied with thinking about George, that she doesn't notice him stepping forward, until his arm is around her and he's pulling her toward. Her hands come around his neck out of habit and she does nothing to stop his lips from reaching hers. She is insistently soaked through when her chest touches his, but she doesn't care. George is a drug and she has been too long without him to pull away now.

Instead, she walks them back inside her house and he closes the door behind them. Once this is done, he slams her up against it as she unbuttons his shirt. It's been too long since she's done this and her fingers are fumbling, but she doesn't care. Right now, all she cares about is George and how his hands are not touching enough of her skin.

Once he's out of his wet shirt, she lets her hands find his and draws them up the front of her soaked night gown. Finally, she brings them to rest on her breasts, knowing very well that he can feel her budded nipples through the wet material. A groan escapes his lips.

"Bedroom. Now," he whispers in her ear, causing the butterflies in her stomach to become liquid heat just a little bit lower. Nodding, she pulls him forward by his belt loops, as he kisses down her neck. They nearly fall on the couch and George pushes her against the hallway wall before they reaching her room, which makes her think he's grown too impatient to wait until they reach her bedroom—not that she's complaining—but they finally reach her room and she guides them through the doorway.

"You never gave me that third reason," she mutters as she works on removing his trousers.

"Three," he mutters huskily against her ear. "I want you. Now and forever."

Then he slams her bedroom door shut.


	20. Chapter 20

Angelina knows she will have to face him; she just isn't sure when. She can hear the pots and pans banging around in the kitchen and wonders if she pretends to be asleep when he comes in, if he'll let her sleep. Of course, that won't work. She would just have to see him later rather than sooner. Sighing, she pushes herself out of the bed and throws on a too big t-shirt.

"Hey," she says when she finds George in the kitchen.

Spinning around, he grins at her. "Morning. I didn't expect you to be up this early."

"Why wouldn't I be up?" she asks, a smile lighting her lips.

He shrugs. "Don't know."

They're playing around what happened the night before and they both know it. Angelina isn't sure if she wants to talk about it, at least not right now, but in her heart, she knows that they must talk about it.

"George," she sighs. "Are you going to tell me what last night was about?"

His shoulders slump before he nods. "I need you, Angelina. You know that."

She bites her lip. "Yeah, but that's not enough. You need to do more than need me, George. You've got to want to change."

"Listen," he snaps. "That was the past. I've changed. I'll prove it to you."

"Good," she replies. "Because I want you to prove it to me. I want to be wrong, George. I want us to move past this horrid war and be happy. I want us to be. . . .us."

"Merlin, Angelina, you aren't going to make this easy, are you?" he questions her, running his fingers through his hair.

"No," she answers. "When have I ever made anything easy?"

George snorts before reaching out and grabbing her around the waist. She doesn't protests and holds onto him just as tightly. It feels like coming home, being in his arms. In all of her life, never has she ever experienced anything like this.

"I want you to be happy, ok?" George mutters against her neck. "I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

"I know," she replies, smiling. "Ditto."

He lets out a laugh and just like that the serious mood has passed and they're friends again—more than friends actually—which makes Angelina's smile widen.


	21. Chapter 21

"George," Angelina moans before she nips at his ear.

"Not like this," he mutters, pushing her away slightly.

"So teach me your way then," she replies.

George laughs. "It's not my way. It's just not the way we used to do this."

Angelina shrugs and leans her head against his. Since they're fight about how he couldn't commit, their relationship had taken a turn for the better. They were both smiling and happy now. Of course, there were moments when they fought, but that hadn't happened too much.

Smiling, George lays her down on the couch, before gently tugging her shirt over her head. Lovingly, his mouth traces kisses over the tops of her breasts. Her breathing quickens as she feels the care he's putting into this. This is what they lacked before; the care and devotion to each other that they feel now. Thankful she's wearing a bra that unhooks in the front, so George quickly removes the garment.

His hand pinches one of her nipples while his mouth covers the other. Both actions cause her back to arch into him. Her nails dig into his shoulders as she tries to push him lower. After placing a kiss on the valley between her breasts, George descends down on her. His fingers gently pry her knickers off of her body. Once they're discarded, his mouth finds her clit and sucks.

"Oh, George," she cries, her hands clinging to his hair. "More."

At her command, his fingers slip inside of her. A gasp flies from her mouth as her eyes open wide. She had always thought that when she felt this way about someone then she wouldn't be able to keep her eyes open because of the pleasure they would bringing her. Oh, how wrong she was.

His fingers rub softly against her, but not enough for her to reach her end. She doesn't want slow tonight, but George seems unwilling to go any faster. Finally, she gives up crying for him to go faster and just enjoys what he is giving her, which in truth isn't all that bad. In fact, it's quite delicious.

His name leaves her lips as she reaches her end. Once he's finished licking her clean, he reappears before her eyes with a roguish look on his face.

"Don't look so smug," she mumbles.

"I'll do as I please," he answers, kissing her forehead.


	22. Chapter 22

"If you kiss me, I'll be quiet for you," she purs from on top of him. George is suddenly fully awake.

He opens his eyes to find Angelina's eyes full of lust and this is one of the times that he wishes they weren't. Right now, they're in a house by the sea that belongs to Katie's aunt. The house is huge and she had invited George, Angelina, Lee, and Alicia to come and stay with her and Oliver for the weekend. He knows for a fact that no one will be pleased if they're woken up by the sound of his and Angelina's moans.

"Angie," he mumbles, trying to defuse her. "Katie will kill you if she finds out we had sex in her aunt's house."

"So?" she replies, running her tongue over his pulse point. "I'll be quiet if you kiss me. I promise."

"Angelina," he whines. "No, you won't."

"Yes, I will," she says, pulling away to look into his eyes. "You could always push me away, you know."

"I could," he thinks about it, before pulling her closer. "Or I could kiss you."

She squeaks, but it's silenced by his lips. His hands find their way under her shirt and he palms her breasts. Smiling, he pulls her shirt over her head and throws it onto the floor. Merlin, he is glad she isn't wearing anything, but knickers.

"George," she sighs.

"Quiet," he whispers, kissing his way down her neck. She nods and lets her head fall into the crook of his neck. Slipping his hand into her underwear, he finds that lovely little bundle of nerves and starts to slowly rub it. Her nails dig into his shoulders as she bites her lip. George thinks he has never seen a more beautiful sight.

"Off, get it off," she orders him. He does as she asks and pushes her knickers down her legs and his boxers follow, both of them landing on the floor. Her back arches as she slides onto him and George swears that he is in heaven.

"Oh, baby," he mutters into her shoulder.

"Don't call me that," she replies, but she's sinking farther down onto him and George knows she doesn't mean it. Desperately, his lips find hers, searing into her how much he cares for her because he can never seem to get the words out of his mouth.

Despite her promise, Angelina cries out when she comes and George knows they've woken up at least Lee and Alicia, who are in the room next to them. George follows her into oblivion as he groans her name. Sweaty and exhausted, they lie back on the bed, catching their breathes.

The next morning, he gets dark looks from Katie and Alicia, but no one says anything to him. They wouldn't with Angelina in the room.


	23. Chapter 23

"Angelina, no," George tells her. "I'm not going anywhere near it."

"But I want _that_ one," she insists.

"It's too big," he argues.

"You said I could have anyone I wanted," she answers simply bending down to pat the Great Dane puppy on the forehead. The puppy barks happily at her and rubs his head against her shoulder. George is starting to regret telling Angelina that he would buy her a dog to make up for being a dick to her.

"You're doing this to get back at me, aren't you?" George asks, narrowing his eyes.

"He's so cute," Angelina says in reply and gestures to the puppy's face as if that proves how cute it is. "Come on, George, you can't say no to this face."

"Actually, I can," he answers, crossing his arms over his chest. "No."

"George," she whines, standing up. "This puppy is meant for us. I can feel it."

George just rolls his eyes in response. Angelina wraps her arms around his neck, a smile on her face.

"Come on, George," she pleads. "This is the one."

"Fine," he relents. "But it can't sleep in the bed."

"Of course, love," she replies then kisses his cheek and goes off to asks the owner how much the puppy is.

Then George feels something wet against his hand. The puppy looks up at him with big sad eyes that shine like sapphires. He glares at the offending creature and yanks his hand away. The puppy starts to whine, refusing to shut up until George pets him.

"Fine," he mumbles, bending down to pet the dog. "Just don't-"

Before he can finish his sentence, the puppy has licked his face as he happily thumps his tail on the ground. He looks rather pleased with himself as he sits in front George.

"See, you're already bonding," Angelina's voice greets him as he stands up.

"Hardly," he replies gruffly.

Angelina rolls her eyes and clips a leash onto the dog's collar. They're bringing home a new member of the family whether George likes it or not.


	24. Chapter 24

George sighs he tries to figure out a way to talk to Angelina. They'd been doing well in their relationship until last night. Last night, George was drunk off his rocker and Angelina did not take well to that. Gently, he pushes the front door open and steps onto the porch where he finds Angelina with her back to him. Silently, he goes over to her.

"Angie?" he says.

"You know," she starts and there are tears in her voice. "You only tell me you love me when you're drunk."

George doesn't move a muscle. Previously, he had hoped that he could pretend that he didn't remember saying that and he had thought that Angelina wouldn't bring it up. How foolish of him to think such a thing.

He thinks about denying it, but then he sees the tears sliding down Angelina's face.

"Oh, love, don't cry," he begs her as he bends down in front of her to wipe away her tears. "Don't cry, Angie. You know I meant every word I said last night. Please, don't cry."

"I know that," she replies. "But the fact that you can only say it when you're drunk. . . .I can't do this, George."

"No, Angelina, please," he stops her. "Don't say that. I love you and you know it. I love you so much and that scares me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I couldn't find the right time or the courage. Please, love, don't get mad and don't leave."

Finally, she lets out a breath of air. "I won't leave, but tell me next time ok?"

"Alright."


	25. Chapter 25

When the lights go out, the air in the bedroom becomes charged. George isn't sure if it's just him or if Angelina feels it, too. It's not like today went particularly well. They were both screaming their lungs out this morning and this evening they barely said two words to each other. George is surprised that he isn't sleeping on the couch tonight. However, since they're actually trying to make a go at this, he reckons that Angelina doesn't want to screw it up by sending him to the couch.

Ginny advised against going to bed angry. She said that it let the feeling simmer, but not cool. She also told him that he should just agree with Angelina on everything because she was probably always going to be right. Thanks, Ginny, he thinks. But that really didn't help. He supposes that he should just go to sleep and they'll sort things out in the morning.

Suddenly, Angelina has rolled on top of him and her lips have met his. His hands try to still her hips which are rocking hard against his. Despite his attempts to stop her, she prevails in making him hard as a rock. Pulling back, she drawls her shirt over her head, leaving her topless. Thank Merlin, she decided not to wear a bra.

Immediately, George's hands find her breasts and harshly caress them. She doesn't seem to mind though because she lets out a rather loud moan and arches into his hands. Her center collides with his prick rather forcefully, much to George's delight. Swiftly, his hands find their way into her knickers and push against her clit.

Angelina cries out, her head finding rest against his shoulder. He loves the reactions he drawls from her. As she bucks against his hand, George finds it a bit difficult to maneuver his hand lower and her knickers aren't helping. Growling, he grabs her bloody underwear and yanks them until he hears them start to rip.

"Hey!" Angelina shouts, jerking away from him. She pulls the offending garment down her legs then proceeds to climb back on top of him. This is much better, he thinks as his fingers find the warm asylum between her legs. This is pure bliss and nothing can wretch him from this moment.

"I need you," she mutters, still rocking against his fingers as she tries to get his boxers off. Obediently, George lifts his hips off the bed and lets her pull down his underwear. Then she snatches his wrist and yanks his fingers out of her. Finally, she is sliding onto his shaft and George once again feels like he's returning home after a long journey.

"Oh, Angie," he sighs, pulling her hips against him slowly. However, their slow rhythm doesn't last and Angelina is suddenly slamming her hips against his with such a force that it almost pushes him over the edge. He somehow manages to hold his own though and rocks back just as harshly, making sure that he hits the perfect spot each time.

"Come for me," she mutters low and sexy in his ear. It's then that he realizes what she's trying to do. She wants to win and if she can't win their argument, then she'll win by making him come before she does. George always did like a challenge and now is no different. So he accepts her offer, sliding his hand down to her clit.

"Only if you come with me," he replies. Immediately, he sees her eyes darken—not only with lust, but with the realization that he's challenging her. She grabs at his wrist, but he won't be moved this time. He was always a sore loser anyway and he doesn't want to hear her gloat so he promises himself that he won't let her.

Bracing herself against his shoulders, she finally reaches her climax. He nearly lets go when she does, but somehow, he finds some resistant that he didn't know he possessed, letting her finish on her own. Her head rests against his shoulder, as her breath tickles his ear. Gently, he rubs her back as she comes down from her high.

"You. . . .cheated," she pants.

"Did not," he says. "I won."

"Come for me," she whines. "Please come for me. Inside me."

Her words are enough as his hips drag off the bed of their own accord and he buries himself deeply inside of her, causing her to cry out. Afterward, she lays on top of his chest, contented.

"What was that about?" he asks.

She shrugs. "I was horny and I didn't care about our stupid fight."

George snorts. "So we're over it."

"Yeah, we're over it."


	26. Chapter 26

Angelina paces back and forth across the floor as she waits for George to come home from work. Breathe, she tells herself. Just breathe. Finally, the door opens and in steps the redheaded man, who she calls her boyfriend.

"Hello, love," he greets her with a kiss on the cheek. "How long have you been back? I thought practice was supposed to run late today?"

"Change of plans," she tells him. "How was work?"

"Fine, fine," he answers. "Same as it always is."

"George, we need to talk," Angelina says softly.

There was a time when George would have balked at these words. He would have said that they could fix whatever it was she wanted to talk about it and please don't leave him. Now, he sits down calmly on the sofa and mutters a simple 'fine'.

Taking a deep breath, she begins. "I came home early from practice—faked an injury. Point is I don't think they'll let me play for much longer."

"Oh, Ange," George says, sympathetic. "I'm sorry, baby. Wish that they would. You're a brilliant player and it's not like you've passed your prime yet."

"I know," she sighs. "But that's not it. I'm pregnant."

Now, George balks. "Are you sure? I mean, it could just be stress or something else that causes you women to miss that time of the month. You know that I wouldn't say this unless it were absolutely true, love. But you have to be sure. If you're not and my mother decides to kill me because she thinks you are, then that's on you."

"George," Angelina reprimands him gently as she takes his hand. "I'm sure. I went to see a healer last week. They know what they're doing and they're sure."

"Ok, it's a good thing," he sounds more like he's trying to convince himself than her. "Of course, we-"

Angelina silences him with a kiss. "George, calm down. It's alright. We're going to be alright. You'll see."

"Merlin, Ange, a baby," he mutters, leaning his forehead against her shoulder as she strokes his hair. "I'm going to be a father."

"Hmm. And you're going to tell your mother."

He groans. "Can't you?"

"No," she answers. "I have to tell mine."

"I reckon we're both done for then."


	27. Chapter 27

Angelina leans forward, clutching her stomach as another contraction hits her. She grits her teeth and waits for it to pass. They're about twenty minutes apart so it's nothing to worry George about right now. Telling him, would only send him into a panic and that is the last thing she needs. It's two weeks to her due date and if she's quite honest, she's glad she didn't have to wait that long for her baby to come. Beside her, Milo, her dog, licks her hand.

"You're more reliable than any man, aren't you, boy?" she mutters, before sitting up straight. The dog just whines next to her. "That's why you're here, isn't it? You know what's happening and you're prepared for it. I wish I could say the same thing about George."

She strokes the dog's head as she waits for the next contraction to hit. This time it doesn't hit at twenty minutes. It hits at fifteen.

"George!" Angelina shouts as Milo began to barks.

"Yes, love?" George answers, poking his head into the room.

"It's time," she tells him. His eyes widen and he stands there for a moment not saying a word. "George!"

"Sorry," he mumbles as he comes to her side and helps her into the bed. "I'll get the midwife and be right back."

"You better be," she grits out, as another contraction hits. "This is your brat that I'm bringing into the world."

Hurriedly, George leaves the room. Angelina rubs her stomach, trying to calm the baby down. However, the effect is the opposite. It kicks her hand roughly and another contraction pulses through her body. Her hands fist in the sheets and she tries to keep from crying out. Milo is at her side again, working his nose under her hand.

"Alright, I'm here," the midwife, Clara, calls. "Get that animal out of here. Do you want it to contaminate the baby?"

Angelina hardly thinks that Milo is going to contaminate her child, but George is already pulling the unwilling dog from the room. Once he shuts the door, he crosses the room in two strides and bends down by her side, much calmer than she had thought he would be. Maybe Clara straightened him out.

"Alright, honey, you're twelve minutes apart," Clara informs her.

Angelina glares at her when she turns her back. She hates being called 'honey'.

"How do you want to do this?" George asks, gently rubbing her hand. They had gone over several positions she could give birth in, even considering a water birth. Angelina had never really made up her mind. She'd thought she had more time.

"I want you to support me," she tells him, breathing hard. This is mainly because she really doesn't want to look at him right now. As gently as he can, George climbs behind her and lets her rest against his chest, his hands in each of hers.

"Alright, hon, it looks like this is going to be a quick one," Clara says. "You're lucky. Most first time mothers send a good two hours in labor. Your little one must be excited to see the world."

Angelina wants to tell this crazy woman that been in having contractions since five this morning. The only thing that stops her is another contraction. Her hands squeeze George's until she realizes that she might be hurting him. He hasn't complained once.

"Good girl," Clara praises her. "Ten minutes apart."

George kisses her forehead. "You're gonna get through this, ok? You both are."

Angelina nods and leans her head against his shoulder. She's really glad she choose this position right now. Her hands rest in George's palms, sweaty, but she's not sure whose sweat it is. George rubs circles on her knuckles while she waits for the next contraction to hit.

"Five minutes apart," the midwife warns. "You best get ready, honey."

Angelina glares at her as best she can through the pain. She wants to get this over with. Her baby needs to fucking hurry up and get out here so she can sleep for two days. The circles on her knuckles start as soon as the contraction passes. Angelina tries to breath through her next contractions, but that's getting harder to do as they get closer and closer together.

"George," she whines softly after one particularly long contraction.

"Talk to her," Clara barks as if she isn't in the room.

"Shh, Angie, it's alright," George comforts her. "You're doing wonderful and soon our beautiful little baby is going to be in the world. Just a bit longer and it will all be over with. I promise. You're almost there."

Angelina screams as another contraction forces it's way up her back. She can't bring herself to care whether they think she's weak or not.

"Alright, hon, push on three," Clara instructs her. "One. . .two. . .three."

Angelina pushes with all her might then, hoping that this will be the last time she has to do it.

"Good, good," she says. "Another one on three. One, two, three."

A scream rips from her throat and she pushes back against George as she tries to relieve the ache in her back.

"One last time," Clara tells her. "Push!"

A wail pierces the room along with Angelina's scream. She slumps back against George, exhausted from what she just experienced.

"You did it, love," George whisper, tears in his voice. "You did it."

Angelina has no reply for him, because Clara has just sat her sweet little baby into her arms and she can concentrate on nothing else.

"It's a boy," Angelina is informed.

"Hi, there, sweet boy," Angelina mutters, running her finger down his tiny face.

"I thought you said he was a brat?" George asks from behind her.

"Oh, he will be, with so many people to spoil him," she answers. "Isn't that right, Freddie?"

"Freddie?" George chokes.

Angelina hadn't really thought when she had said that name, but that's what he looked like. Besides, it seems fitting to name him 'Fred'. It isn't like it was a crime either. If anyone has a right to the name, George does.

"Yeah," she says softly. "If it's ok with you."

"Yeah," he answers. "It is."


	28. Chapter 28

George paces back and forth as he waits for Angelina to arrive home. Freddie has just gone down for his nap and won't be back up for another hour or two if he's lucky. The ring in his pocket feels like lead. Thankfully, he doesn't have to run the shop today because Ron said that he would take over.

It takes Angelina another thirty minutes before she arrives. As soon as the door swings open, Freddie's screams pierce the air. Angelina gives George an apologetic look before rushing into the one-year-old's room. The cries stop almost immediately. Finally, Angelina returns to the living room with their son on her hip and a smile on her face.

"How long has he be down?" she asks, bouncing the boy on her hip.

"Not long," George answers. "About thirty, maybe forty-five, minutes."

"Did you wanna see your mamma?" Angelina coos to Freddie. "Yes, you did. Yes, you did. I thought you were taking him to your mum's for the day?"

"Changed my mind," he tells her. "Come here."

She makes her way toward the couch and hands Freddie to him when the baby reaches for him.

"Did you go to work today?" she asks, snuggling into his side.

"No," he sighs. "Didn't feel like it. Besides, I don't think he minded."

Freddie smiles at them before grabbing onto Angelina's braids and stuffing one into his mouth. Gently, Angelina takes it from him and hands him a toy.

"We've got to do something about his teething problem," she says. "He can't keep chewing on my braids and I hate hearing him cry when his gums hurt."

"Mum said applesauce helps," George shrugs. "We could try that."

"We could," she replies, tickling the baby's tummy. "You want me to go get some?"

"No!" George shouts as she sits up a startled look on her face. "I just mean. . . .not yet."

"Ok," she nods. "He's fine right now anyway."

"I wanted to run something by you," he says as he looks down at Freddie, who grins up at him.

"Yeah?" Angelina replies, leaning back into his shoulder. "What's that?"

Quickly, he snatches the ring from his pocket and slips it into her hand. "Marry me?"

"Those words are all I need to be yours forever," she mutters as she opens the box.

"What?" George asks.

Angelina waves him off. "Something I read." Gently, she slips the ring on her finger. "Of course, I'll marry you."


	29. Chapter 29

Angelina smiles as she and George sign the paper at the Ministry. They decided that it was best not to waist time with a big ceremony and just get married as soon as possible. So they had gathered Katie, Alicia, Lee, and Oliver to be their witnesses. Now they are married and Angelina feels like she is floating on air. When George grins at her, she knows he feels the same. Her smile only grows when she sees Katie bouncing Freddie on her knee.

"George," Angelina stops him before they leave.

"Yeah, love?" he answers.

"I wanted to say something to you," she tells him. "Something private." When he nods, she goes on. "I love you with all my heart. I can't imagine my life without you in it. You're one of the most joyful people in the world and I only hope that I can give you that much joy until the end. But no matter what, light or dark, day or night, rain or shine, I am with you until the end of the line. Nothing will tear me away from you."

Tears well in George's eyes and he yanks her to his chest, crushing her in a hug. Angelina returns his embrace, kissing the side of his face. He mutters 'I love you' over and over and that is enough for her. She doesn't need a big speech declaring his love for her. She just needs George and now that he is her husband, she will have him completely.

"Come on, you two!" Lee calls. "You can be all mushy later."

George gives a watery laugh and pulls away from her. "You ready, wife?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, husband."


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Mentions of suicide.**

"Do you still think about him?" Angelina asks softly, one late night after they've put the kids to sleep.

"Yeah," George sighs as he stroke her bare back. He's not sure why she has to bring this up _now_. They've just had sex for the first time in months and he's not sure why she wants to talk about it. Way to ruin a moment, Ange, he thinks.

"Is it as bad?" she questions, resting her chin on his chest.

"No," he answers simply. "I'll never be whole or anything like that, but it's not as bad."

"It's just. . ." she trails off, tracing her finger over his chest. "Well, I just heard someone talking the other day about her friend who committed suicide because she lost someone in the war. Did you. . .did you ever feel that way?"

George sighs. "A few times."

"Would you have done it?" her voice quivers as she asks.

"Left to my own devices, I probably would have," he answers honestly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she says, desperation in her voice.

"Because you can't carry every burden, love," he tells her. "Besides, my family was there for me during that time and you were still mourning yourself. I wasn't going to load you with that."

"Why?" she snaps. "I would have helped. I would have been here."

"Angelina," George replies, tersely. "What brought this up?"

Her lower lip trembles. "I just. . . .I don't want to loose you."

Then she's full on sobbing and George is wishing he hadn't been so harsh with her.

"Oh, Angie, here now," he mutters, pulling her close and rocking her. "It's alright. I'm not going anywhere and I mostly had those thoughts in the beginning. It's not like that anymore. Calm down, love."

"I don't want to loose you, George," Angelina sobs.

"I know, I know and I'm not going anywhere," he tries to comfort her. "Angelina, I promise. I'll stay right here."

Finally, she seems to calm down. Gently, George lays back down with her in the crook of his arm. They don't speak again for the rest of the night, which relieves George, though he keeps a strong hold on his wife, just to make sure she knows he's here. He knows that sometimes, even the strongest get scared.


	31. Chapter 31

Angelina hears the cries and screams all ringing clearly in her head, but she has to keep going. If she doesn't, then her friends will die and she can't have that. Quickly, she makes her way through the halls that she grew up in, trying her best to see through the smoke. Finally, she locates Alicia.

"Alicia!" she shouts.

"Ange!" Alicia replies, turning around. As she does so, a jet of green light flies at her and the black haired girl falls dead.

"Alicia!" Angelina screams lurching forward, only for another voice to call her name.

"Ange!" George screams, pain thick in his voice. "Angelina!"

Turning around, Angelina spots George lying on the ground, shaking with pain as a Death Eater holds him under Crucio. Without thinking, Angelina runs for George only to be hit with the Torture Curse herself. As she falls to the ground, her mind can understand nothing, but the pain as it thumbs through her body. As quickly as the curse is there, it is gone.

"Angelina! I can't hold on much longer! Hurry!" Katie cries from somewhere far away. Slowly, Angelina rises to her feet and searches for her friend, but all she finds is dust and rubble. Panic starts to rise inside her. Where is Alicia's body? Where is George? They have to be here.

* * *

"Angie! Wake up!" George says as he pulls her close to him. "You were crying in your sleep."

Reaching up to touch her face, Angelina finds that she is indeed crying. Or she was in her sleep.

"You're alright?" she mutters softly.

"I'm fine. We all are."

 **A/N: Well, that's it guys! This is the last chapter!**


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